


The Storm

by satalderihannsu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bad Poetry, Japanese Culture, M/M, Poetry, Samurai, Samurai AU, Sengoku Jidai era, Sheith Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 05:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12125544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satalderihannsu/pseuds/satalderihannsu
Summary: Enemies close on all sides, and the Kogane Clan struggles to stay alive in Warring States era Nippon. Akira Kogane and a samurai from his past, Shirogane Takashi, may be the last hope for their clan against the ever encroaching Unmei. As they train together and battle together, Akira and Shirogane cannot help but acknowledge the bond between them. (aka, overwrought samurai AU)





	The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sheith Big Bang 2017. Art for this fic by FlufflyNeko (http://flufflyneko.tumblr.com/) and Erika (http://erinyanko.tumblr.com/). I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish!!

In this remote region, the cold of winter sets into the bones and can only ever thawed by the miserable wet heat of the heart of summer. The castle of Clan Kogane crashes through clouds of steam pouring from peat and packed straw. It was once forceful and graceful, but is now just one more desolate refuge for a once great clan. At least being remote meant that the clan could cling to the last vestiges of life a while longer, even as the north starved and the south burned in the fires of men grown savage.

 

Kogane Castle would fall, that much was inevitable. Asuka sighed in frustration. Her fingers knotted into the laminated wood grip of her naginata. “Get up,” she ordered, cool and certain. “You expect a genteel life out here?” She poked her cousin's prone body with the back end of the weapon. Only a heavy grunt. “Oh come on! How dare you just sit there when we are the  _ last _ \--”

 

Suddenly, almost faster than her eyes tracked, Akira’s hand snapped forward and cupped the base of her weapon. He slammed it upward, startling Asuka’s grip. She scrambled to regain her hold, but too late--her fingers landed atop Akira’s already holding the lower grip. He wrestled her bodily, and though he had the unfavourable position, he wedged himself under Asuka and separated her from her weapon. Asuka huffed hard, but Akira elbowed against her solar plexus. She lost her air momentarily. Her eyes tracked to Akira’s short sword, several feet away where she'd knocked it moments ago.

 

She dove for it, leaving her back critically unprotected. However, Akira did not attack her. Instead, he swiped out for the sword with the naginata. Asuka, slightly ahead of the arc of her own weapon, caught the tsuka. In an awkward grip, she spun and deflected Akira's swing. She gave a victorious battle cry as she brought her sword just shy of bisecting her cousin. “Still you make poor decisions. You're fast enough to beat me, and certainly strong enough. But you simply won't.” She caught her breath. “ _ Why _ ?”

 

Akira lowered the weapon to his hip. His fingers loosed, and it clattered to the ground. Akira was also catching his breath. For all that Asuka claimed to be easily bestable, she was not by any stretch an  _ easy _ fight. “Princess… I…” He fell silent. He sucked against his teeth. He tried to banish the few memories he had left of his youth in the city. Of the screams of his family, of the other clan members in the house, as it was easily consumed by flames. The stink of hot dung and thatch had almost, but not quite, overwhelmed the delicious smell of cooking, smoked pork.

 

They raised no pigs.

 

Akira shook his head again. “I'm sorry, Princess. I study. But I think my cousin is training me only to be beaten by her.”

 

Asuka grunted in as ladylike a manner she could manage. “I wish I could provide you with appropriate training to your station, but I’ve only myself and Koyama. I am sorry.”

 

Akira nodded. They both knew what their lives contained. Akira had only arrived at Kogane Castle a month after the last bandit raid. He had been travelling alone for more than a year, trying to find the rest of his Clan without guidance. Who knew whether the person he asked would be friend or foe? The branch of the Clan in Kyoto was no more, and all he had were hopes of wandering North to find someone at the end of an inescapable pull toward the northernmost star.

 

Akira’s session with Asuka ended like any other these days: unsatisfyingly. Akira believed that this would likely be how their lives ended. What could they do, two alone to protect a handful of servants, and fewer farmers than could even harvest  this year’s crop. Perhaps if they were set upon by bandits, they would simply have to turn to farming to gain anything as spoils. The thought made Akira laugh.

 

Akira took the rest of the day to wander into the village at the foot of the castle. He hoped that he could check what defenses, if any, could be effected. Today seemed louder than usual. Was there an odd cheeriness to the air that danced in counterpoint to his own sobriety? What were the villagers even making a fuss over?

 

He followed the noise until it coalesced into music and off-key singing. In the village center, everyone seemed to have gathered. The off-key singing had an obvious source--the villagers--and a now more obvious origin. Their leader was a young man in blue hitatare. He was the most off-key of all, but that only seemed to inspire the villagers all the more. Four villagers danced around the singing fool carrying shishi masks. At the end of each refrain, a monk cried out and an encouraging word, or repetition of the refrain.

 

Several villagers in outrageous “armor” made of kindling charged the shishi mask dancers, who scattered. They were running away from the “bandits.” At a critically loud moment in the song, the man in blue produced from inside his clothing another mask, placed it over his face, shouted, and joined the other dancers, now in a line. Together, as a unit, they stalked the bandits. Some of the villagers acting their roles couldn’t help laughing as they fled before the united force of five great lion spirits.

 

The music and singing devolved into wild screaming and cheering. The four villagers finally pulled down their masks. Akira had trouble seeing who was part of such a fiasco, but it seemed to be the man in blue, a larger man in a plain saffron kosode, a very small, fair youth in green, and the others had scattered. The monk who had been yelling along with the music was walking over to talk with the villagers.

 

Now that villagers were clearing the way and Akira could see better, it was immediately obvious who the monk was, at least:  _ Koyama _ . Why was the old monk down here? He dodged two children chasing each other, and then what seemed to be an older, responsible sister in order to make his way to the foursome who were now all laughing together.

 

The man in blue stopped laughing and let his face fall when he realized that Akira was coming toward them.

 

“--and then she cut off the whole- what? What’s wrong?” Koyama turned slowly and, upon recognizing the looming figure behind him, yelped in terror. “Kogane-dono!”

 

The man in blue laughed again. “Oh, so you’re Akira?”

 

The larger man elbowed what was clearly his friend. “Isamu, don’t you think that’s a bit too informal? He’s the seventh… eighth… uh one of the ranking…”

 

“Right, you don’t know either. And today, we’re all just at the festival, right, Akira?” The man grinned. He held the blue shishi mask he’d been wearing and the biwa that had been so poorly tuned earlier. He shuffled these into one hand and offered a friendly bow.

 

Akira did not return the bow. It wasn’t that he cared for proper address over much--

 

“Now see here! You shall address him as Kogane-shichi-i-dono.”

 

\--but rather that he knew Koyama would decide and announce what everyone ought to call each other regardless of what anyone actually cared.

 

The man in blue frowned.

 

Akira didn’t like him. He was noisy, and foolish. “I don’t care how you address me. But you better have some care about me, because I’m going to be defending us against those who are inevitably coming. It might be spring, it might be all the way to fall, but they’re coming. You could at least care about that instead of dancing around like idiots.”

 

Even Koyama drew back in shock. The man called Isamu grit his teeth together and shoved the lion mask into Koyama’s hands. “Excuse me? You think I don’t know that? You think I and every man, woman, and child in this village doesn’t live with that hanging over their head every single day? I don’t know what it’s like to live in a castle, sure, but I know that people who live in fear have to unwind now and then!”

 

Akira snapped back, “Your music and dancing isn’t going to help anyone when fiery arrows take your home.”

 

“And people without hope can’t fight!”

 

The larger man put a hand to Isamu’s shoulder. It looked like he forcibly pushed Isamu back. Soil gathered around his rope sandals. “I’m really sorry, Kogane-dono. My name is Tsuyoshi. My friend here is Isamu, and this is Hiroshi.” The smallest of their group nodded, but immediately returned to whittling at a small piece of wood. “We just know that it can be hard staring down, ah, well, almost certain death. And since the yamabushi are all gone, Koyama brought us the sacred masks so we could still drum up some vitality in the village.”

 

Akira’s attention turned to the masks. Koyama took Tsuyoshi’s and Hiroshi’s. Seeing his interest, Koyama handed a few to Akira. All together, there were five. They were in the likeness of ornate shishi lions, brightly painted. Two were fully lacquered: red and black. They felt truly ancient in his hands.

 

Tsuyoshi continued, “If it helps us fight, it’s a good thing, right?”

 

Akira stroked his jaw. “Maybe you’ll be better at fighting if you put down your biwa and pick up a sword.” He’d had enough. He’d seen the layout of the village again. He could map it out later and figure out where to build barricades. Without a word he handed the two masks he held back to Koyama.

 

Koyama stayed behind and spoke farewells to the villagers, then rushed to catch up with Akira. “I don’t suppose every bit of that was completely and in every way necessary?”

 

Akira didn’t answer.

 

Koyama two-stepped a bit faster to stand in front of Akira. “You might find a traditional dance ridiculous, but these masks are part of a much grander tradition from a time when this clan was the most powerful on the entire island.”

 

Akira ignored Koyama, but let his pace fall in line with the older man's.

 

“Why, I even remember the days of my youth when Asuka’s father danced underneath one of these masks. This one!” He held up the red lacquered mask, the effort causing him to fumble comically. He juggled one, two, three, then all five into the air. Akira hopped back on his heels and caught two: red and black. He felt a deep thrum against his fingertips, and instantly dropped them. Koyama, having already danced about with blue, green, and yellow, made a last lurch to scoop up red and black as they pitched from Akira's hands.

 

Koyama rolled like a warrior dodging one of Princess Asuka’s most vicious attacks. Akira found himself impressed.

 

“ _ Do _ be careful!” Koyama squeaked.

 

Akira dropped down. With his hands testing on his knees, he asked, “What was that?”

 

Koyama, from his location prone on the ground and cradling all five masks close to his chest. “Oh, just a move I picked up while travelling in China! In my day I was no common layabout!”

 

“No, the masks… they vibrated.”

 

Koyama stopped speaking for a moment, his countenance shifting entirely. He looked Akira up and down, then, in a display of flexibility and grace previously thought unachievable by a man his age and profession, he flipped himself to standing, still cradling the relics. “Well, that's interesting.”

 

Akira waited for a moment. No further comment seemed forthcoming.

 

“That was cryptic,” he said gruffly.

 

“I wonder if dinner will be ready when we get there!” Koyama took off at a swift pace.

 

***

 

Castle Kogane rose out of the mist very suddenly. When walking to the front gates, all appeared an endless waste along the path--until at last the mountain ridge sheared away to reveal the height of the castle. The white stone was stark, and beautiful.

 

By now the two travellers had lapsed into uneasy silence. The air hung still and cold. Unchanged. Except.   
  


Akira squinted through the mist at what seemed a strange, dark lump. Halfway up the path to the castle, there seemed to be… “Koyama, someone’s there!”

 

“Henh?”

 

“There’s someone at the castle!” Akira broke into a run, heading up the path as quickly as he could. He pelted up the scale of the hill and soon could make out more of the shape: it was a person, bedraggled and in torn clothes. He seemed to have fallen, was unmoving, but did appear to be breathing. Akira finally dropped to his knees beside the figure. He pushed at the thick shoulders, turning the disturbingly familiar figure over. His heart thudded in his ears. “Sh-Shirogane?!”

 

Koyama ran to his side moments later. “Akira, you know this man?”

 

Akira nodded, already working to position the man for carrying. Koyama moved from foot to foot, unable to help. “Is he alive? Is he sick? Good heavens!” The last was a shout when his right arm fell to the side and revealed itself to not be living flesh. Instead, it clacked against the pebbly path.

 

Akira had already moved past his initial shock. With a hard grunt, he pushed up against the weight of the much larger man into a standing position. Koyama finally stopped dithering and hurried to the gates. Only one tired guard was there, half asleep. Koyama rousted him and had the gates opened for Akira to get through.

 

By then other members of the castle were running forward.

 

Akira fell forward in a fog. The others pulled Shirogane from him. Koyama was shouting instructions. But Akira could only half-understand as he took in the sight of Shirogane’s face. A long, prominent scar crossed the bridge of his nose, and a white shock of hair had appeared over his forehead, as though he were piebald. And then there was the arm…

 

This was not the Shirogane he remembered. At least, it wasn’t  _ all  _ of him.

 

***

 

It was a full day and a full night before Shirogane peered out from under half-closed lids. He sought to hide his consciousness, but Akira read it immediately in the tension in his chest and legs. Shirogane was ready to fight or run. “Shirogane!” 

 

Shirogane’s eyes snapped open. His pupils slowly shrank to adjust to the sharply angled morning light. “...Akira?” A flurry of emotions drained through his skin. He settled into a soft smile, but his eyes were still sharp with something pained. He pulled himself to a sitting position. The ache made his teeth clack together.

 

“Hey, no, you don’t have to get up yet.”

 

Shirogane looked up at Akira, who’d instantly come to his side. “That’s where you’re wrong. But first… What are you doing here?”

 

“This is my clan’s castle. When our home in Kyoto was destroyed, I escaped. I searched for you, but…” Akira pressed his lips together in frustration.

 

Shirogane nodded. “Yes. I was nowhere to be found.”

 

Akira nodded. The memory of the search, the near starvation, the endless hiding as he made his way almost on instinct alone--this was sharp and cold in his stomach. “When I found the castle, I was as surprised as you are to find out I had made it to someone friendly, much less Asuka no Miya.” Akira rearranged his posture to kneel in front of Shirogane. “The princess had been preparing the Castle defenses to protect the village. There have been a few raids, but nothing like we saw in Kyoto yet. I’ve been training with her. I’ll be ready to fight when the fires come here.”

 

Shirogane looked up into the dreadfully certain eyes. He remembered a determined boy from years ago who seemed very far away. Before him was a newly minted man, in need of a strong hand of guidance and familiarity. He reached up with his arm to place it comfortingly on Akira’s shoulder. He squeezed, trying to place all of his comfort in the touch.

 

Akira let the warmth of Shirogane’s fingers permeate him for a moment. But after only a few seconds, it became only an obvious reminder of the strange prosthetic. Its high-sheen polish was almost reflective, but the light glossing it held none of a candle’s warm glow. Especially in this light, before the fog had even begun to burn off. Akira couldn’t stop looking at it. Shirogane ignored the gaze until he could no longer. He shifted his shoulder to bring the arm to his lap. “I suppose you want to know where I’ve been all this time.”

 

Akira nodded. “And why you’re…”

 

“Yes, yes, I suppose I owe you that.” He breathed softly, and clasped his hands, false and true, together in his lap. “I fought for two days without sleep, food, or pause. By then, the fires had died down. I was wheezing with every breath and a pain in my temples wouldn’t let me see to my sides. Everything was dim, hazy, but at last none were… were left… to fight me.” Shirogane paused. His brow furrowed. “I failed, though, to perceive the cowards among them.”

 

“Who, Shirogane?”

 

Shirogane grit his teeth. “The Unmei Clan.” Shirogane shifted, tugging his clothing more securely around himself and anchoring his wooden arm against the fabric. “They spread like a cruel plague over the land. They captured me, sought information from me, forced me into bloodsport for the entertainment of their warriors, and gave me… this. It’s a jumble, too much to remember and tell right now.”

 

Akira’s eyes flickered, reflecting the fires of his memory. “The Unmei.” He reached forward to touch the joint where wood coiled tightly around scarred flesh. His fingers stroked back and forth between the two materials. Shirogane watched, marvelling as sensation arrived and fled from his detection. He shivered, and Akira pulled away.

 

“I escaped, but was lost and ill until… until you found me.”

 

Akira again touched Shirogane’s arm, this time tightening his grip. “It is good to have you back.”

 

Shirogane smiled. “It’s good to be back.”

 

***

 

The days passed and Shirogane healed. Together, Akira and Shirogane trained: Shirogane, to regain his strength; and Akira to learn technique from a warrior. In each of their current states, their fights were almost as equals, pushing each other to greater efforts, and lofting each other on mutual respect.

 

At first, Akira thought it would be easy to fall into the same relationship he’d known before: Shirogane was a legendary warrior in his household, and he’d loved watching the punishing routine. He’d stay just out of sight at a turn in the terrace, and follow the movements. Shirogane’s grunts and other sounds of exertion became as familiar as his own. And the day that Shirogane finally detected him, and brought him into the courtyard.

 

Akira wondered why Shirogane was treating him differently. He couldn’t put his finger on it. But even as they fought together, even as the very sounds were the same, there was some impenetrable difference. Akira fought all the harder, trying to discover it by pure force of will power. And for his efforts, he received Shirogane’s easy laugh, his calm instruction, and an almost infuriating bodily closeness.

 

One day, Shirogane was smiling into the sunlight overhead when he got Akira’s attention. “It’s funny. I’m getting stronger every day. I should be easily beating you, but I’m not. It takes a little bit of work.” His crooked grin was just enough to not let Akira feel too easy about the compliment.

 

Akira kept himself reserved. “Oh?”

 

Shirogane put a hand to his shoulder. “Yes. I’m getting better, returning to my previous strength. But you? You’re becoming stronger than you were before.”

 

Akira took a moment before responding, “Isn’t that the goal?”

 

Shirogane nodded. “Yes, it is. But you’re… very fast at it.” Shirogane tried to keep his face open and gentle, but struggled to keep the very real flush from reaching his cheeks. He was fully aware that the flush had little to do with the effort of training.

 

Akira, however, flushed easily and brightly at the compliment.

 

***

 

It was weeks later. The village had come under attack twice, and Asuka had managed to use the “return of a legendary warrior” to inspire the some of the villagers to join the ranks of the few warriors of the Kogane clan to make an improvised fighting force.

 

Asuka’s shout could be heard over the roar of the hundred men scrabbling to find formation. Her voice, pitched higher than anyone else present, was a perfect sound to command the untrained farmers.

 

The hand on Akira’s shoulder was warm. “It’s not your place yet to join this battle. Don’t worry: I’ll return, and we’ll get back to training together. It will be good for me as well, right?”

 

Akira clenched his teeth. “This isn’t just posturing, though.”

 

Shirogane shook his head solemnly. “No, no it is not. But you’re needed here. If we have made an error, you’re here to prevent our foolishness from costing these people their homes.”

 

Akira touched Shirogane’s arm, as though he could hold him back. Shirogane covered his fingertips with his own hand. “I promise,” he said, staring directly into Akira’s eyes, “this time I’m coming back. I’ll never leave you on your own again.” This time, when Shirogane let go, Akira did as well. He nodded sharply, biting back the dread in his heart.

 

“I promise to defend the Castle. You will  _ not _ come back to fire.”

 

Shirogane nodded. “I know. I know I can trust you.”

 

The roar of impending battle was just outside the gates. The farmers and servants and scattered warriors were whooping in response to Asuka’s inspirational shouts. Shirogane looked to either side, knowing he had to leave. Asuka needed his sword arm, and needed him to lead the flanking forces. But in that instant, he decided to take a memento into battle: he gave himself only a moment to feel the press of his lips to Akira’s in a kiss. He didn’t even give himself enough time to discover whether Akira was shocked, delighted, or irritated. He only had the ghost of touch. It was enough to carry him out the gate and into the sea of men. More than a castle, more than a princess, what drove Shirogane to the fight now was a young warrior who needed more time to become the marvel Shirogane knew he could be.

 

The gates were already closing behind him, so he ran to join Asuka. They shouldn’t,  _ shouldn’t _ encounter anything terrible on this. There were only about ten loosely affiliated bandits. Shirogane thought that he alone might have cut them down without such a force necessary. But Asuka had been right: these people needed to know that they could join the fight, and that they had something to fight for. Shirogane knew that, knew it well.

 

Akira waited until the whooping had turned into a marching chorus of song, and until that song was out of range as well. The servants and guards who remained had re-entered the castle, leaving him alone. Akira felt more alone knowing they were close by and had no need of his presence than he had felt in making his way to the Castle those years ago.

 

There was a part of the castle that always echoed the winds in the eaves, and made the wood whistle in a low, lonely whine. Akira found himself in this part of the castle often. His feet often seemed to draw him there without his wishing it. This time, his thoughts were on Shirogane, and how long they’d been separated. And now, at any moment, a spear, a sword, or, more likely, an arrow would take Shirogane from him again. What could he do? He was  _ imprisoned _ in this castle that needed him more than he needed Shirogane.

 

His heart raged against that idea: that anything was more necessary that holding Shirogane close and never letting him out of sight again.

 

He also told himself that it was just a sense of protection.

 

The wind picked up. Instead of a lonely whistle, it howled as it beat against wood and stone. Akira grit his teeth, letting the cold draft distract him from his frustrations.

 

But the wind took a new note. It’s howls took more specific shapes. The rattle of stone sounded more metallic. The wind shouted.

 

Akira snapped from his reverie. He could tell now what was wind… and what was the sound of men.

 

He was fleet, his feet slapping the floors and stairs as he sped to the gates in time to hear the shouts. Akira felt the fire in his gut rise. Some of the guards were already responding--they could hear it as well. “Hikokiyo, report!”

 

“We don’t know what it is, Kogane-dono.”

 

The arrows came over the gates, thudding into dirt and sticking in wood as it hit.  _ At least they’re not on fire _ , Akira thought.  _ But why are they here. What happened to Asuka? _

 

_ What happened to Shirogane? _

 

Akira did the math that he could manage. There were thirty of them here in the courtyard. Some of them were old. He called up to the men on the watch tower for a report of what awaited on the other side of the wall. Takasuke turned just in time to catch an arrow in the side.

 

_ Make that twenty-nine men _ .

 

“Akira! Don’t open the gate!” came Shirogane’s voice. Akira flew to the gate, knowing that Shirogane was on the other side. That the gate stopped him from fighting alongside Shirogane. That if they opened the gates, they risked whatever was on the other side pouring into the courtyard and easily taking the castle. But Shirogane was on the other side!

 

“Why are you out there? What’s happening?”

 

“I’m alone! I came to warn you. I was too slow. They’re almost here. Akira, there’s only thirty. If you plan well, you can defeat them. I’ll do what I can out here. Akira--”

 

“Shirogane!”

 

Arrows hit on the other side of the gate. It wasn’t just the sound of the arrow embedding: Akira could see the tip of the arrow protruding into his side of the gate door. They were closer indeed: the arrow had more power behind it.

 

“Keep the gate closed!” came Shirogane’s shout. He was further away. He must have dodged the arrow.

 

Shirogane was outside, alone, against thirty men. Akira could hear them more clearly now.

 

The castle guards were in formation, waiting to stop the bandits or villains or whoever was on the other side.

 

The fire in Akira’s belly erupted into his brain. He was unwilling to simply wait until Shirogane was dead for a wave of murderers break through. “Hikokiyo, keep the gate closed! Get archers up there!”

 

“Tono!” Hikokiyo shouted in concern.

 

Akira ignored him, and took to the watchtower himself. He scaled it with one hand, bracing his swords with the other. As soon as he was visible, a small volley of arrows laughed around him. He was lucky, was able to dodge. He took a gIsamu downward and was able to see Shirogane, locked in combat with another. These weren’t random bandits, though. They were too well equipped, and too regularly. These were soldiers, even though none was wearing an obvious mark of allegiance. It didn’t matter, and Akira didn’t have time to think about it. He ran along the edge of the wall, toward Shirogane’s position. His foot slipped once, and he nearly lost himself, but caught the edge of the wall enough to right himself. Finally, he saw an outcropping of the mountain that looked like he could make it without dying instantly. The rockface shielded the area as well. Perfect.

 

Akira launched himself down the wall, and then tumbled the rest of the way down the rocky mountain face. Dirt and twigs clung to his hair and clothes, but there was just enough foliage to keep Akira from impacting too hard as he finally came to a stop in the small clearing, just behind a boulder. The breath was knocked out of him. He gasped for air, but clutched his swords even tighter.

 

“Who are you?” he heard, just at the other side of the boulder.  _ Shirogane! _ Akira fought air back into his lungs, and fought also to find his legs. The adrenaline pushed him to standing.

 

“The same as  _ you _ , answered a gruff and foreboding voice, followed instantly by a clash of metal to metal. Why fight us when you could return to your own proper clan? You never belonged with them--why protect them?”

 

Akira was already scrambling to get over the boulder. He got to top, to see the fight between Shirogane and the unknown soldier. The two men fought each other, Shirogane able to see Akira and the other facing away. As soon as Akira stood atop the rock, Shirogane saw. His eyes widened, but an overhead cut drew his attention back to the fight. He barely blocked, and the blade knicked into his wooden arm as it gIsamud down.

 

Akira shouted and lunged down. He landed hard against the attacking soldier, knocking him forward. But even with Akira’s full weight kicked into him, he didn’t fall. He turned to his new opponent. He was huge, and Akira gasped. He, too, had an artificial limb. It was thicker than Shirogane’s, and and had more motion available with it. Instantly, he moved to cut Akira with a snarl. Shirogane, however, ducked down and punched with his whole weight up and under his ribs. The soldier snarled back, and seemed to make a decision.  He jumped back, just as Akira moved to unsheath his sword.

 

Shirogane was slightly ahead of him, swinging low with his full strength.

 

The soldier was at a disadvantage. The two of them flanked him, and the soldier seemed to have a tactical mind as well as a powerful fighting spirit. He snarled again, like an animal, and ran back. He wasn’t retreating, and both Akira and Shirogane knew this. He was redoubling his efforts to attack the castle.

 

“Akira, the gate!”

 

“It’s okay! I came…”

 

Shirogane stared at him in amazement. “...over the wall?”

 

Akira nodded, gasping again. But he was ready.

 

Shirogane nodded. “All right, we’ll take as many as we can and make the fight more even.”

 

Akira and Shirogane moved as one, following the leader of the attacking force through the brush and rocks, to the west side of the attack. The castle position resisted an attack by narrowing the road. Only a few men could be at the gate at a time, and it was a rude drop to either side. Archers from the back could only do so much without targets to view, and a sharp curve in the path prevented battering rams. Thankfully, no one had fire yet.

 

Shirogane cut down two men effortlessly as they fought their way along the side to get back to the gate. The soldier was visible at the rear, shouting to his archers. But there was no time to think, on to react. Akira drew his sword with a rare speed, it flashing easily in the strange light. In the same motion as the draw, he pulled his saya up defensively. Three swords cut toward him. He deflected two, dodged the third. The first man he dispatched by kicked hard and knocking him off the path to his bone-breaking demise. The next with a cut to the belly. And the third, Shirogane knocked down with a pounding blow from his wooden arm, used like a hard mallet that could feel no pain. Shirogane had also cut down two men on his side.

 

Akira moved faster than he ever had in his life. All of these men were trained soldiers, that much was obvious. They knew how to fight. This wasn’t a bunch of fat bandits who depending on weapons alone to win their fights. Akira struggled to catch all the blades that flew over his head. Shirogane, too, was fighting for his life. They worked together to protect their sides and each other. Shirogane blocked cuts from Akira’s left that would have killed him. And Akira killed a man who nearly got a cut against Shirogane’s neck.

 

Then there was a shout in unison from the archers at the back. And a distinct glow.

 

_ No. _ “Shirogane!”

 

“I see it!” Shirogane punched low to knock another man away. He made forward progress, even against the four men bearing down at him. Akira knew he had to keep up or they would both die. He switched from the powerful overhead strokes that had been effective so far, and stabbed forward. It was hard to get through the soldiers’ armor, and the strain on his muscles made him question if he could do it. But Shirogane needed him.

 

The first line of archers fired again, this time with flaming arrows over the wall. They could hear the shouts of the guards inside scrambling, but whether it was to evade or to stop the inevitable burning, there was no telling. Importantly, though, Shirogane and Akira both knew that this meant that the men within had broken formation.

 

Shirogane roared and twisted his body. His wooden arm was a heavy blunt force instrument. Two arrows lodged in it, then broke against a foe. Akira slashed in the opposite direction, cutting down two men with the same stroke. His vision went red, and he knew it was from the blood in his eyes. But there were still at least six men before they got to the line of archers.

 

The soldier who had the larger wooden arm shouted “Again!” and another volley of lit arrows arched over the wall. Akira could hear the groan that meant two different men had been hit. He took out two men in their honor. His body ached, and yet he seemed unable to find that pain slowing him down. But Akira saw in his peripheral vision that Shirogane was fighting four men, his blade and arm moving so fast it was like a powerful, deadly dance with the enemy. Akira couldn’t reach him on the next move, but he had to trust that Shirogane could take them. Because Akira had reached the line of archers, and they were taking aim at Shirogane. They didn’t seem to care that they might hit their own fighters, so long as they took down Shirogane. “Fire!” shouted the leader.

 

Akira whirled in front of the line, knocking aside and breaking four bows. He was unstable from overreaching, and the closest archer drew a wakizashi against him. But Shirogane was at his side, and blocked the blade so that it only drew blood from Akira’s stomach. How had he defeated four men so quickly? Akira hadn’t seen, but his heart swelled in amazement.

 

The line of archers was destabilizing. The four at the back were able to get one more round of arrows into the air before Shirogane punched through. A powerful growl ripped from him as he pushed through the soldiers, not even defending, to get to the leader. He lunged up to the leader’s huge chest, landing with his weight. This time, he went down, but four soldiers were already turned to fight him.

 

Akira managed to kick back two more of the first line of archers: one into the gulley below and one with his leg cut out from under him and a finishing cut nearly taking his head. But there were still four men, and the leader. And Shirogane seemed enraged in the bloodlust of battle and no longer protecting himself. “Shirogane!” Akira shouted. He stabbed through the back of one of the men, the pull back hard against bone and armor. He drew his wakizashi with his other hand, dropping his saya. With it, he stabbed another soldier as he turned. It lodged against his collar, and Akira knew better than to try to pull it out. One of the last two cut against Shirogane, who just barely defended with his wooden arm. Shirogane snarled in response and continued his fight with the leader.

 

The huge man pushed Shirogane back. “You belong with us.”

 

“I’ll never be yours again,  Shin’daiki!”

 

The leader grinned, and hefted his body to throw his wooden arm like a lode from a catapult. It hit Shirogane squarely in the head, knocking him to the ground instantly.

 

“Shirogane!” Akira ran forward, the last soldier scrambling out of his way. Akira fell to his side, panting. His vision was muddy from dirt and blood, his and others’.

 

“Ha.” Shin’daiki, the leader of this almost entirely dead group somehow laughed. “I can see what he had to get back to. But this isn’t over, cub.”

 

The gates opened, and ten men ran outside, charging. But Shin’daiki knew when to leave. He turned and ran down the path, then into the underbrush. The last living soldier had also vanished.

 

Hikokiyo came to Akira's side. “Tono, we can follow him!”

 

“No!” Akira said. “We have to stay. We’re all that’s left here, and if they have another group laying in wait, Asuka no Miya won’t have a castle to return to!”

 

Shirogane stirred, and grabbed Akira’s arm. “Akira…. Akira, are you all right?”

 

Akira put his hand over Shirogane’s. “Shirogane…! I’m fine. We’re alive. We won.”

 

Shirogane sat up, slowly. The guards we busy at work, pilfering swords and armor and then shoving bodies into the ravine. But for all the activity around them, Akira couldn’t think about anything except having Shirogane alive, touching him.

 

In the distance they could hear singing. Asuka no Miya’s band was returning, and they were victorious as well, it seemed.

 

Akira hugged Shirogane tightly, the tension of battle melting and the world seeming safe for a moment.

 

***

 

After the attack, Shirogane spent a long time in conference with Asuka no Miya and the monk Koyama. It was clear that this was no longer just bandits on the edges of conflicts. This was a small, but specific force. And it had known that the princess and her best fighters were away. If Shirogane and Akira had not been there, the castle would have surely fallen.

 

The fight with the bandits had gone well. Very well indeed. In fact, some of the villagers had particularly shined in their efforts against them. They had even managed to regain some of their crops, making the edges of winter more easy to bear. So while there was the comfort of knowing that there were more people to train for battle, all knew that true conflict was only just beginning. And there wasn’t enough time to turn farmers into warriors if the enemy was already marching to their gates.

 

And then there was Shirogane’s information. With head hanging forward, he explained. “They wore no regalia, but I’m sure they were at least mercenaries of the Unmei clan. Their leader was Shin’daiki, a general for the Unmei. He was my… jailor. He tortured me. And I… I fought under him until I was able to escape.”

 

The princess’s face darkened. “It was as I suspected. The Unmei are a blight, and we’ve barely been able to hang on as all our lands have been cut off from us.”

 

“O-hime-sama… We know they’re coming, so we have to stop them before they get here. The villagers have fought well against the bandits, but that was ten untrained men. They need time, and the Unmei are already on our doorstep.” Shirogane bit his lip. “I escaped to find you and warn you. But I may have also led them straight to you. I have to take responsibility for this.”

 

Asuka shook her head. “Shirogane, I’m thankful that you’re here now. You can train our men until we can truly fight. You  _ and _ Akira are critical assets in this war. Please, don’t be too hard on yourself.” She touched Shirogane’s cheek in comfort.

 

Akira kept his head low, and stayed silent.

 

The princess stood. “Thank you both for saving the castle. The gates never opened, and the two of you fought dozens of soldiers. I couldn’t be prouder. But I need you for the coming battles.”

 

It seemed to be the end of the conversation, and the princess retreated to her own rooms, Koyama following. Shirogane stayed seated for several moments, and Akira held the silence with him. He felt like his nervousness would break him, but he held himself in check for Shirogane until Shirogane was ready.

 

The stayed that way for a long while, until the noise of the outside world had quieted. Shirogane finally sighed and relaxed his shoulders.  “What do you think?” he asked without looking at Akira.

 

“D-danna?”

 

Shirogane smiled and turned to face Akira. “The princess wants us to stay. Maybe to fight off another thirty men single-handedly.”

 

Akira nodded, but didn’t make eye contact.

 

“So what do you think?”

 

Akira drew a long breath. He turned his body, but still didn’t meet his stare. He felt hot with the intensity of Shirogane’s gaze. “I think… that you are the greatest warrior who has ever walked that courtyard. I think if Shin'daiki hadn’t left the battle, you would have won.”

 

Shirogane smiled. “You don’t think I lost control and left myself exposed? And you think we could have easily taken the next set of soldiers?”

 

Akira’s silence was answer enough. Shirogane sighed again. “The Unmei Clan are just as the Asuka no Miya says. They have examined our state, and will be coming in force. Clan Kogane needs  _ time _ to train the villagers that we’ve recruited. Time they won’t have.”

 

Akira grit his teeth. “What are you saying? You want us to give up?”

 

“No, Akira. That’s not it at all. The Unmei will be anticipating that we stay to defend the Castle. They won’t expect us to  _ leave _ . They won’t expect to be attacked before they make it to Kogane lands.”

 

Akira looked up then. “You want us to march with a few villagers and a few old guards into Unmei lands?”

 

Shirogane shook his head. “No. Such a group would tire, lose morale, and be seen too easily.”

 

Akira finally understood. “But only a couple of warriors--”

 

“Yes, as I thought.”

 

Akira bit his lip. “How soon?”

 

Shirogane remained quiet a bit longer.

 

“That soon?”

 

Shirogane leaned forward. “You don’t have to come with me. You’ve found a home here, and it is equally worthy to stay and protect the princess. And I won’t lie. I am entirely certain that I’m going on a suicide mission. I can only hope to buy enough time for the princess and the village to fortify.”

 

Akira nodded. “But she’ll have to rebuild entirely on her own.”

 

“No. Three of the villagers have good potential. I know she’ll be able to  use them.”

 

They sat that way a while longer, facing each other in silence. Akira licked his lips before speaking. “I’ll do anything to fight the Unmei. They killed my family, destroyed everything I know, and took you away from me.”

 

“Akira--”

 

“Danna! I- I will follow you through anything. I’ll fight by your side no matter where we are.”

 

Shirogane waited. “It would be an honor… to die by your side.” He bowed to Akira, then stood. “If you decide not to come, I won’t be disappointed. I don’t require that you die with me.”

 

Akira looked up. The clarity of the twilight rendered Shirogane’s features in smooth grey. He was beautiful, and willing to protect those he served with his life. And this man was asking Akira to join him. “I know that I should serve our clan. But even more, danna, I will fight with you. Always, until I can’t fight anymore.”

 

Shirogane put a hand to his wooden arm. He fingered a deep groove in the wood. He returned to face Akira and knelt. “Akira. We’ve never made a formal arrangement. You are already the warrior I always knew you could be.” He pulled a candle closer to compensate for the low light before kneeling. “Akira. A time of shudo has passed us by. The Unmei robbed us of anything by these past few months. And in that time, I have seen your strength and nobility.”

 

Akira kept very still. His fingertips were so tense that he thought he might bruise his own thighs where they rested. “I don’t need praise.”

 

“Heh.” Shirogane paused. “Akira, I am not your nenja. You are not my wakashu. But I…” A softness came over his features. “I have never needed the company of a woman, Akira. Never desired a woman’s presence, or touch, or gentleness.” He touched Akira’s right hand, palmed over the back of it. “If you decide to come with me, know that I will have desired  _ your  _ presence, and touch, and gentleness.”

 

A tremble shook through Akira and settled in his spine. “Shirogane.”

 

“And if that is too terrible, please stay and help the princess train the villagers and the guards. I can die for the clan alone, and that would be enough for me.”

 

Akira laughed.

 

Shirogane pulled back and blinked. “What?”

 

Akira grinned up at him from under his loose and unkempt hair. “I can give you company, Shirogane. I… I can try to give you… touch. But I don’t think I can be gentle like a fine lady.”

 

Shirogane grinned back. “Well, if your gentleness is a rough sort of gentleness, then that’s the one I want.” Perhaps it was the candlelight, but a warm glow highlighted Shirogane’s cheeks. He pulled back from Akira, unable to keep the light out of his eyes.

 

“I’ll leave before dawn. I’m going to go convince Asuka no Miya. I’ll wait at the gate until the birds fall silent, then be on my way.”

 

He didn’t wait for Akira to answer. A pounding in his chest would have drowned out anything the younger man would have said anyway.

 

Akira stayed in the audience room for several long minutes, until the remaining candles sputtered and the newly risen moon painted all the colors black and silver instead of warm reds. Finally, when the moon stole all light from the room and all candles had died, Akira returned to his own apartments. He had few possessions to speak of: only his clothes, his swords, and the knife. He had a small stash of road rations as well, and these he packed. He napped sitting up, so the light would fall on his face as the moon made it to this side of the Castle. He would not oversleep, but he couldn’t travel without being somewhat rested.

 

It was hard to sleep, though, with thoughts of the warmth of Shirogane’s hand, memories of Shirogane’s prowess in battle, and the soft look in his eyes when speaking softly alone in a candlelit room.

 

Shirogane’s eyes guided Akira to sleep.

 

***

 

When Shirogane arrived at the gate while the castle was still simply a darker black against a kohl-colored sky marked with tarnished silver fog, Akira was already there. He was garbed for a long journey and chewing on a piece of dried venison. Shirogane smiled to see him, but didn’t comment.

 

They walked for a whole day, making it to the next mountain and starting to scale it. Along the way, the conversation amiably grew in and out of topics and plans and commentary on the trip itself. They lapsed into companionable silences or spoke energetically about signs of plants coming to life along the road. As darkness fell, Akira finally asked, “When should we make camp?”

 

Shirogane smiled. “Not much further. There’s a shack I found on my way here. It should still be standing. It’s not very obvious.”

 

The moon was beginning to rise as the edge of the shack came into view. Shirogane slid down the mountain face, rocks tumbling over his feet. He caught himself as the ground leveled out and motioned for Akira to follow him. “Here! Our inn for the night!”

 

The shack was small: one room, a fire pit, and a noren curtain barely hanging over the doorway by a few rough woven strands. Akira skittered down the hill, and, standing beside Shirogane, looked out over the plain into Unmei territory.

 

“So,  you want us to single-handedly take on the whole of the Unmei clan?" He gestured so dramatically that his sleeve caught the handle of his daisho.

  
Shirogane looked over at him, and rested his hand against Akira's shoulder. "Calm yourself. We’ll start in the morning by releasing their horses. Then we’ll get into camp, there.” He pointed toward a distant area where fire  He readjusted his other arm within his outer robe, the fingers resting lightly against the hilt of his blade.

  
Kogane took comfort in the touch, Shirogane's warmth having an almost supernatural ability to calm and refocus him. Even as the fire of the distant fight kindled in him, Akira relied on Shirogane to give him direction and guidance.  A dust storm had gathered on the horizon, and even from here Akira and Shirogane could see that the camps rushed to prepare for it. "Yes, danna."

 

"We should get inside.” Shirogane’s eyes scanned the horizon, darker than the night should have brought. He turned back to their shelter, pushing the noren out of the way. " The storm is coming. We'll have to wait until it's over." On the wide plain, the clouds were distant, but moving fast, rolling over each other like a herd of stampeding goats. The house they had taken up was barely pasted to the side of the mountain behind them. It was just another jagged outcropping on the rock face. But it afforded a remarkable view of the wideness of the world. It had been burned some time long ago, and the wood creaking around them threatened to collapse. But it would do for a night. Soon enough it would likely simply meet its final death in a hail of new arrow fire.

 

Akira nodded, his body still keyed to action. The oncoming storm echoed and pitched his emotions, ready to tear through the countryside at a moment's notice. But he still obeyed Shirogane and ducked under the noren as well. Shirogane had already started a fire in the pit and was putting on rice to boil. Shirogane knelt on a dirty zabutons near the fire to stir the rice. They sat like this until the bubbles stopped peaking out of the pot.  "Bowl?” asked Shirogane.

  
Akira went through their packs and forked them over: his own simple lacquered one, and his master's beautiful one, repaired with kintsugi, a sign of better times. Akira touched the fine line of metal holding the ceramic together before handing it to Shirogane. He caressed the scar on the bowl with a finger before letting it go.

  
Shirogane ladled out some of their dinner. He cupped his own bowl in his hand, and offered Akira’s to him. He'd noticed the softer moment from his companion,  but had chosen not to comment on it. Let him have his thoughts.

 

Akira ate without elegance, quickly, and ended up staring at Shirogane who took his meal more slowly. He finally sighed, and leaned against his master in (mostly) feigned impatience.   
  


Shirogane stopped mid-bite and gIsamud sideways at him. "Something wrong?"

 

Akira stayed quiet, hiding from Shirogane’s gaze again. "I didn't think you'd ever return to m-... to us."   
  


Shirogane set his bowl down, his chopsticks atop the rim. He wrapped his good arm around Kogane's shoulders. “I didn’t think I could ever make it back.”

 

“And I would have lost you again.”

 

“Nn?”

 

Akira turned into the touch. “If you hadn’t let me know. You would have just disappeared and left me with this ache.” The enveloping warmth was almost too much. There had been so much unsaid--undone--when Shirogane had disappeared. And now that he was back, albeit changed, it seemed hard to find the ease they had known before. And Akira was changed, too.  Bolder, more full of rage.

  
The first pelting of the storm struck the hut. Shirogane looked up toward the ceiling. At least it wasn’t rain. Dust blew through the many gaps in the shack, but rain would have soaked them. The thunder struck hard above the hut, his other arm coming up protectively.  He looked down, catching the open expression of Akira in his arms.   
  


Akira felt the force of the sandstorm in his bones, as though the lurching of the shack was from the tidal force of his own will, rather than the storm. He touched the arm that wrapped around him, then twisted in Shirogane's arm to touch the other.   
  


Shirogane looked down into bright, deep eyes. "I'm sorry I was gone so long. I'm sorry I left you all alone."   
  


Akira grit his teeth and spat out, "Idiot." He gripped into the strong shoulders, fully facing Shirogane now. "The past is past. You're here now, and I'll keep you here."   
  
"All right. Keep me all that you like." He nodded, the fingers of his good hands stroking idly at Akira’s waist.   
  


Akira shivered at the intimate touch.  It seemed that Shirogane was quite serious. But their roles were peculiar. Shirogane was certainly his nenja, but Akira was no longer a young wakashu. "Shirogane.  _ Danna _ ... I--" He silenced himself, and gripped into his master's shoulders all the more fiercely. He pressed forward, direct and absolute, to touch his lips to Shirogane. Akira held him tightly, in a steely grip. Shirogane thought it strange how his hands could feel so unyielding but his lips! Dear gods, his lips were soft and warm. The demanding kiss softened only when Shirogane's hands came to rest on the other's waist and pulled him closer and more fully into an embrace.

  
Not the slightest resistance, not a single indication of "no." This wasn't shudo, and it wasn't obligation, he was sure of it. Akira drank in the kiss, steering it wildly and roughly one moment, then tender and soft in the next. It was a kiss like running pell-mell through mountain passes. The touch to his waist soon had him in Shirogane's lap, straddling him with the intent of keeping him (here) held down and receptive. His hands moved up and down Shirogane's arms with passion flaring inside him.   
  


Shirogane’s damaged arm slipped forward to lock around his waist. The other hand slipped up into the other's hair, pulling it free from it's tie, running his fingers through the dark strands. It felt good, and Akira let out a soft moan low in Shirogane's mouth. His hips stuttered as heat flowed into him. All from the feeling of Shirogane's strong fingers stroking into his scalp. This was moving so very fast, and the pitch of the storm wasn't helping. Akira tugged at the shoulders of Shirogane's hitatare to expose his broad chest.   
  


Shirogane pulled his wooden arm free, the garment hanging off one shoulder. He pulled Akira closer, chest to chest, with only Akira’s garments between them. He reached down, and tugged gently at the ties of Akira’s hakama. "Would you allow me to serve you?" Shirogane murmured softly, pressing his forehead to Akira’s.   
  


Akira licked his lips, very clear on what Shirogane was suggesting. Concerns of whether this was right or appropriate or good or anything other than "gods, yes" had no bearing on his ability to reason. "Ha-Hai," he breathed out, petting over the newly bared skin before him.   
  


With a smile, Shirogane again kissed Akira--gently this time. He teased his hand in through the side of the hakama and pushed up his kosode to stroke over his hip. "How shall I serve you?" Akira felt Shirogane’'s breath on his ear, felt it blow strands of his loose hair.  He groaned softly again, and arched his back a little at the touches. His "sword" had become fully ready, and wanted so much to be drawn. He growled at his inability to find the words, and answered by kissing Shirogane, more forcefully than before, and thrusting his tongue inward at a definite rhythm. Shirogane chuckled slightly, tugging at the ties of the hakama, loosing the front. "I think I understand." He brushed his fingers against the base. "We might have to rearrange. My bad arm is holding your weight."   
  


Akira touched the top of the rough scar tissue of his "bad" arm. "It's fine. Your strength is just as good with this one." His expression was completely clear. This was the utter truth. “This arm that holds me now is that arm that saved my life again and again against the Unmei.”

  
Shirogane nodded, and wrapped his fingers around Keith’s length. He leaned in, tilting his head to catch the other's lips in a slow burn of a kiss.

  
Akira shivered, quickly losing himself in the passion. The kiss was achingly slow. He rocked against the hand so expertly touching him. He leaned against the strength in the arm at the small of his back.  "Shirogane!" he hissed as the rough pad of the other's thumb touched his tip.

  
"Hmm. This is a beautifully formed as I expected." Shirogane stroked up and down the length of him, tugging back the skin. "Long and slender as a blade."

  
The flush on Akira cheeks turned a shade darker. "There's no need--" he began, but stroked over Shirogane's cheek.  He couldn't actually argue that he wouldn't have said something similar, were Shirogane's “sword” in his own hands.   
  


Shirogane kissed him passionately. He swept the other to the floor, pressing him down onto the zabutons. Akira’s kosode spread out beneath them. Their chests pressed together. Shirogane’s wooden arm rested above Akira's head and his other hand traced along the underside of his length and head. Akira used his legs to press to Shirogane closer to himself. He didn't want to lose those lips, but he also desperately wanted them to move further. Shirogane was beautiful like  this: determined, focused, but still kind. Akira touched his back, his arms, his chest, unable to get enough of the feel of Shirogane's skin.

  
"Is this all the service you require of me, Akira?" His own features were flushed as he stroked hair away from Akira's face. In answer, Akira shifted his leg in order to tuck it between Shirogane's.  He moved it upward slowly, rubbing against the definitely-not-a-sword he knew he'd find there. Shirogane dropped his face to Akira’s chest, groaning against him. "Very well." he murmured softly, and slipped downward. He undid the rest of the ties, and sat back on his heels. "Turn over, Akira."   
  


Akira looked surprised, verging on disappointed. If Shirogane just wanted to fuck him, that was fine. Akira assumed it was his own fault, for having stirred him so with his leg. He turned over slowly, watching Shirogane over his shoulder.

  
Shirogane dipped his hand quickly into the nearby water vessel, and then washed it across Akira’s entrance, and dried him gently with a cloth.  _ Now he was being finicky? _ Akira laughed a little--it also tickled. But he couldn't deny that it felt rather good.  He was already excited, that was sure, and he wanted any stimulation by now. Akira let himself relax. He was at least a little aware that this might hurt. Then Shirogane leaned down, and planted that first teasing lick against his entrance.   
The reaction was worth it.

  
Akira’s eyebrows were lost in his hairline and he lurched forward in surprise. His mouth opened for a moan or shout of shock, but no sound came out. His shoulders hunched like a cat and he snapped his head around to stare at Shirogane, who had obviously lost his mind.

  
Shirogane met his gaze for a moment, then closed his eyes to focus. He lapped against him, one hand pressing him open, the other gripping Akira’s hip and holding him in place.

  
Those slate eyes, that moan, all barely glimpsed over his own skin, made Akira make a soft mewling sound in response. Shirogane's tongue was strong and slick against him, and he felt himself lewdly twitching at each forceful stroke against incredibly sensitive skin.

  
Shirogane pressed him open now, his thumbs trailing over the soft skin at the the back of his thighs. He switched over to skimming his palms against Akira’s smooth backside.

  
Akira felt something in him click into place, and his back stretched up. He let himself be opened, held aloft by the motions. He knew he was in a pose shamefully exposed, inviting, and did not quite care. He felt the pulsing vibrations of Shirogane's periodic moaning, which was doing terrible things to Akira's willpower. His head finally fell into the cradle of his elbow, his chest heaving against the floor. This felt good, and he wouldn’t even begin to deny it.  "Shiiii....rooh...." was all he could manage at the first probe of tongue past the first fluttering muscle.   
  


Shirogane wrapped an arm around Akira’s thighs, and pulled him back to him. He teased gently with a fingertip against Akira’s entrance and tugged slightly downward even as he licked. Like this, Kogane felt the underside of his member resting against the top of Shirogane's arm. But the awareness made him harden more--and lift away frustratingly. He tried to work his hips, but the result made Shirogane's finger press inward. Akira couldn't help but gasp. He was very quickly becoming  a moaning, messy, lewd pile of boy. His moans took on a pleading edge, until he was outright begging. "Shirogane, please! Please!"   
  


Shiro worked with merciless confidence. His confidence wasn't a mask or a posture. It was the absolute certainty of one who was skilled and capable. One who was to be trusted. Akira decided that he would make Shirogane pay for the bait and switch next time, but right now he'd been awakened. He  _ needed _ . "Danna, please take me." The words weren't even hard to say, and his body was twitching in need, thighs and backside tensing and releasing in a sought rhythm. Akira considered a fantasy of the past he'd once heard about warriors being able to compose fine poetry at moments like these, and mentally scoffed. Those ancient warriors had not had to contend with Shirogane Takashi!   
  


He rolled his hand within him, working his fingers deeper. "I remember that it’s somewhere...  _ here _ ." He tweaked his fingers downward, curling them against the slight firmness in him.   
White hot light shot behind Akira’s eyes and he yelped.

 

"Gods, gods, Shirogane!" He spread his legs as best he could with Shirogane holding him around his thighs. He also became very aware of the straining in his prick resultant from the press within. "Ha-have you ever felt that?" he groaned back, needing to know if Shirogane realized just what he was doing to him.

  
"I have." He kissed over Akira’s hip. "I also have felt this." He worked in a third finger and worked them against his prostate.

 

This intense pressure was almost too much to take.  Akira was shaking from his toes up, biting his lip and looking over his shoulder to Shirogane. His hair fell over his back as he stretched to be able to view his lover. He swallowed against the almost-feeling, fighting for control. Fingers tilted inside him roughly. Akira thrust his hips back against the force. He reached to touch his aching member.

  
Shirogane raised his wrist, blocking Akira’s access. Akira growled, but Shirogane was still stronger than him. Akira was also at a substantial disadvantage. The kiss at his hip became a suckle that made him buck. Shirogane bit his hipbone. Akira worked all the harder back against the touches to his hip and within. He was about to explode. He knew that the slightest stimulation to his front would be enough.

  
Akira spread himself open without thought, making a pretty picture without conscious intent. Sweat shone on his body, and his most intimate of places was open and inviting. And most importantly, every bit of him sang with wanting to have and be had. "Shirogane," he moaned softly. "Please...."

  
Shirogane took a swig of water, and swished, swallowing. He leaned in for a kiss, resting himself into the cradle of the Akira’s thighs. The kiss was slow and sensual, as he stroked over Akira’s chest and stomach. Akira drew Shirogane's mouth to his own, coaxing his tongue into his own mouth and suckling sweetly and roughly. His hips canted to fit snugly against Shirogane's front. They were already working together softly. Kogane was keeping himself from grinding his front, lest he lose himself. Shirogane's hands were so strong, and yet so gentle. He wrapped legs and arms around the other man, pulling him close.   
  


He found he liked the feeling of Akira’s hands running through his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Their tongues gently battled for a minute or two, Shirogane’s hands moving down to rest against the outside of the other man's thighs.

  
Akira pushed against the touch, enjoying the absolute strength of Shirogane’s arm. Akira pulled back and touched Shirogane's hands, then stroked his own skin inward, to his center, dutifully bypassing his own member, and spreading himself wide. “I can’t hold on much longer, Shirogane. Please.” Akira tilted so he was braced against his shoulder and could easily see Shirogane behind him. Shirogane obediently stroked himself over the entrance, listening to the soft moans that slipped from the other's lips. Akira brushed his fingertips forward to touch and feel the thickness as it pushed against and in. “It’s almost impossible to believe that  _ that  _ could fit,” he moaned. But others had found pleasure together, physical differences no deterrent. Akira certainly would not be the first to fail to be accommodating. His body curled at the intrusion. Akira reached back to clutch into Shirogane’s scarred shoulder. "Let me have you right now. You don’t have to move so slowly for me. I can take it!"

 

Shirogane pressed in, pushing past the entrance. He lifted one of Akira’s legs back, to let it rest on his shoulder. Akira could now look up and see his lover’s face easily, and this made him smile. His lips had grown red with kissing and flush, as had his cheeks and nose and chest. Shirogane’s body shuddered with holding still, so that the other might adjust.   
  


Akira felt the ache, just shy of real pain. "It's fine," he said. "I'm strong!"

 

“I never suspected otherwise.” 

 

Akira touched directly over Shirogane's heart, could feel the pounding of it. He looked up, and his eyes shone with earnestness. "Shirogane... I... I... love..." He couldn't quite manage to say it, though his heart burst with the feeling.

  
"I know." Shirogane kissed Akira fully him on the mouth. The storm outside finally hit the shack, making it shudder around them, the pelting against the walls, matching their rhythm.  
  
The air coming through the weak boards blew and fanned the flames of the recessed fire, and the world seemed to flare in fire as Shirogane built a determined pace: slow, but strong and complete. Akira felt himself shaking all over. He wrapped his legs around Shirogane's back to keep him close, making him work harder to leave and then easier to thrust back in. Akira could not keep his eyes open or his mouth closed, as he panted into Shirogane's mouth. When the pace broke them from a kiss, he panted into Shirogane’s neck desperately.

  
Shirogane pushed Akira’s kosode completely off his shoulders to touch all of his fine, pale skin. His lips skimmed over Akira’s collarbone and then, finding the prominence of muscle at the shoulder, he bit down.

  
Akira's body was commanded by the bite, hard and merciless. His body convulsed, his spine seeming to jangle with the slow, but deep feeling of finish overwhelming him. He managed to find Shirogane's hand and drag it to his already jerking member. His voice was calling a long, unstopping groan as the world darkened and even the roar of the storm seemed to vanish.

  
Shirogane licked gently over the bitemark, as slowly and intensely as he had licked other parts of Akira. Finally, as the storm reached it's peak, so did Shirogane. He turned his head, moaning into the hollow of his lover’s throat.   
  


Akira could barely move, and could only hold fast to Shirogane. He was riding out the storm outside as well as his lover’s storm. He kissed the top of Shirogane's head and sighed at the warm rush of being filled: so deeply satisfying that he could barely stave off the immediate desire to sleep.  “Shirogane." he murmured into black and white hair, heat steaming the smell of sweat up for Akira to breathe in.   
  


"Akira." Shirogane at last groaned out. He reached up, catching strands of Akira’s hair, letting them ease through his fingers. Like a cough, the storm outside collapsed in on itself, almost like it was never there. Kogane struggled to stay awake, the fight made all the harder for the slow stroking of his hair. He focused on the growing discomfort of his aching insides so that he could stay with his lover a few moments more.

 

The morning came, as mornings often do, too soon. The war came with it.

 

***

 

A single sheet of paper lay in the fire pit of the shack on the side of a mountain for years until it eroded into dust. As long as it remained, two poems were inscribed upon it. One was on the rough side of the paper, and the other on the smoother.

 

The rough side read, in a jagged hand:

 

This mountainside built

It’s own natural structure

It hid animals

Who bonded to each other

In true love, and became men

 

The smooth side read, in a bolder, more legible hand:

 

A sapling outside

Might be a plum or cherry

I will never know

But its blossoms cannot be

Sweeter than those of last night

 

The shack eventually crumbled as well, pressured by the roots of a strong and sweet-smelling cherry tree that somehow clung to the rock face.

 

END


End file.
